


Real Boy

by hyrshe



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyrshe/pseuds/hyrshe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So I don’t know. I guess I’m the father, as far as I know, but not really. I mean, how could a fake man ever be a real father?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Boy

**Author's Note:**

> betaed by cactoids on tumblr who doesn't even watch Once Upon a Time but neither do I really, so it's all good.

“So who’s the father?” She asks, breaking the post-putting-the-kids-to-bed-then-having-a-drink silence.

“I’m the father,” he says, and he doesn’t look at her so she can’t tell if he’s angry because his voice just sounds so dead. But he doesn’t look at her and she can’t believe she asked him that because she knows, _she knows_ , what it is to get asked that and all she wants is to take it back and say, “I’m sorry-”

“No, I know,” he says, “I know what you mean and you probably know what you mean, right? I mean, who’s the mother?” He stares up her confrontationally. She doesn’t think he’s ever looked at her in that way.

“ _I_ am Henry’s mother,” she says. And she knows that’s not the point but she says it anyway. She needs to make sure.

“I know. And I’m Roland’s father,” he says, “but not really.”

“I… you -” She tries to explain, that of course he is, of course he is, and that’s not what she meant, but he’s speaking again and she doesn’t have the right words.

“You don’t need to baby me or anything, you know? I mean, I know. I know I’m not _really_ the father. And we can talk it out all we want about how things are real for us, and how we know, we _know_ , and maybe you do, Regina, but I’m not sure I do,” he says. And he sighs like he does before he starts to say something important. A punctuation mark to warn her that he needs her to listen.

“So who’s the father?” He repeats, “I don’t know. Marian said she had made a wish--asked a fairy or whomever--and she was going to have a baby. Although, to be honest, she most likely just got knocked up by someone passing through. I wouldn’t count on a fairy to fulfill a wish made by anyone in my company. And Marian probably just wanted to be with a real man.”

She wants to tell him he is a real man, but she knows that it wouldn’t help. Because it was true but it also wasn’t true. Real men never had to talk about their realness. Neither did real mothers.

“So I don’t know. I guess I’m the father, as far as I know, but not really. I mean, how could a fake man ever be a real father?”

“I…” She leans on her hands, her elbows propped up on her knees, and looks at him, “I wish I could tell you that you are a real man and one of the only real fathers I know, and make that mean something.”

He’s sitting on the couch, legs wide and spread out on the couch like a teenage boy while she sits across from him, on the much less comfortable armchair. She sits up, crosses her legs, and looks up at the ceiling, and taps her fingers against her lips before speaking up again.

“When I first got Henry, I was sure I could be a real mother. That Henry would make me a real human being. I suppose that after a long enough time of being treated as unimportant and as property and as the Evil Queen, I started to believe those things about myself. And perhaps those things were true. I can’t honestly deny that I was never evil.”

There is silence for a moment before she begins again.

“Realness feels very complicated. Am I _really_ a mother? Am I really _deserving_ of life? Am I a _real human being_?” She pauses, “What I do know is that real people do not contemplate their realness.”

There is another moment of silence before Regina stands and picks up the empty wine glasses sitting on the coffee table. She then walks from the living room to the kitchen, pausing for a moment to rest a comforting hand on Robin’s arm. Robin follows not long after.

She’s standing by the sink, rinsing out the glasses, and he comes up behind her and wraps his arms around stomach before she can properly start the dishwasher. He’s needy and she hates it but he’s needy and she’s grateful because she is so needy, but would never admit it.

“Roland starts school tomorrow,” he says and then places a kiss right below her ear.

“I know,” and she turns slowly into him, burying her face in his chest. It is now when he struggles most with his masculinity. When she is no longer wearing heels and he can stand taller than her and when he looks the most like a man. Like a real man. He wonders why he wants to be a real man so badly, he wonders why would ever want to be like one of the real men.

“Do you think Henry is real?” He asks, and she lets go, gives up on the embrace, and settles with her back leaning into the counter. She holds his hands.”

“Is Henry a real boy?” she smirks, “I don’t know, Robin. I don’t know.

“Sometimes I wonder how I will explain to Roland that he is real and I am not. Can a father be less real than his son?”

She doesn’t answer him, but she pulls at his collar and kisses him gently and whispers, “Let’s go to bed.”

==

She starts the dishwasher and he wipes off the counters and they head upstairs together with no words exchanged, only a few touches shared between them. Regina slips out of her clothes with ease, but Robin only strips down to his boxer shorts. He is far too uncomfortable being naked in this room. Partially because it is _Regina’s_ room and he feels that walking around with no clothes would be considered some kind of territorial marking ritual and partially because he thinks his body is weird.

Regina doesn’t agree. She thinks his body is beautiful but he thinks that she just couldn’t understand because she could be naked _anywhere_ and people would accept it.

They slide into bed, each of them on their own side. They don’t touch. Regina has her eyes softly shut and Robin is staring at the ceiling.

“I think you’re real,” he says, “for what it’s worth.”

And she kisses him on the shoulder, wraps her arm around his waist and rests her head on his chest.

“That’s worth the world,” she says.

 


End file.
